


You Have This... Friend?

by Nightzilla333



Series: Writing Prompts [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:05:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightzilla333/pseuds/Nightzilla333
Summary: You have this… friend. Really nice bloke, buys you a beer when you’re feeling down, kills the people who’ve wronged you, etc. You don’t actually know his name though.From the Prompt here:http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/152127464200/you-have-this-friend-really-nice-bloke-buys-you





	

The bell above the door jingled cheerfully, and, wobbling on your heels, you make your way over to the bar. The heavy purse slung over your shoulder falls next to the gentleman sitting at the bar, and he pulls out the stool for you. Sighing, you fall into the stool, careful to make sure that you don’t fall off while managing the ability to keep your skirt didn’t ride up. Before you can say anything the gentleman at the bar sitting next to you hands you a Kleenex. You wipe your eyes and he holds up his hand to signal the bartender. A beer slides in front of you and you smile weakly in thanks. As soon as the bartender walks away the gentleman and you take a sip of your beer at the same time.

“So, what happened? Weren’t you supposed to get married today?”

“I got a call this morning,” you start, eyes welling up all over again, “my ex-fiancé called off the wedding. The entire thing. Said that he no longer wants to get married to me. Said that I’m over reacting. So I start making calls, you know, to let everyone know that nothing is happening, and I get to his best man, right? His best man knew! Said that Jack was hit up by his, what I thought was his ex-girlfriend, and they ran off together!”

The gentleman sitting at the bar nods at you but doesn’t make eye contact. He takes a sip of his beer and sighs. He tips his baseball cap further down and slaps the money for both beers onto the table and slides off of the stool. He doesn’t say anything.

He never has, past the few inquiries into your life. He’s your friend. You met him your first year in University, while getting your bachelor degree. He’s always been here. Sitting at the bar, sipping his beer, ball cap covering his eyes. Over the years he has learnt many things about you – your favourite beer, why you went after your degree, your favourite colour, your favourite animal, whether you were a cat person or a dog person – the little things about your life. He’s always been like this, buying you a beer when you’re down. He did it when your grandmother, the woman who practically raised you, passed away. He did it when one of your boyfriends disappeared after hitting you, and, coincidentally, he did it when your boyfriend hit you. He referred you to a therapist.

He was always doing this though, buying you a beer when you’re feeling down, making the people who have wronged you simply… _disappear_. He kills them, you assume. You’re not entirely sure, since the bodies have never been found. He’s a really nice guy, so it’s a shame you don’t really know what he looks like, let alone know his name.


End file.
